Dark Autumn
by Yardil
Summary: Alex Wilkinson has few marriage prospects and the weight of family on her shoulders, but a pair of match-making interlopers set her up with the new Potions Master. Things rapidly go from bad to worse as she finds herself the pawn in a deadly game.
1. I Roughly the Start

I

When the dust settled after the downfall of Voldemort many people found themselves to be in rather odd and awkward positions. This meant that, particularly among the purebloods, there was a scramble to marry off children and secure assets before anyone could accuse families of supporting Voldemort. In the ensuing chaos many members of respectable half-blood families found themselves being welcomed with open arms into the ranks of families that had previously rejected offers of betrothal from their sons and daughters.

In light of what is noted above it is unsurprising that when Severus Snape joined the Hogwarts teaching staff little more than five years after he had left its halls as a graduating student, amidst the rumors he had been a Death Eater and still practiced the Dark Arts, there was some talk of him choosing a wife from the older students still within its walls. If the gossips had known what they speculated was anywhere near the truth they might have put money on one girl or another.

Many looked at the beauties and saw a wife they thought they wanted and therefore one Snape would want. Others picked his intelligence and looked for students with a mind to match his or ones that shared his love and skill at potions. Others still believed the rumors about Snape's involvement with the Death Eaters and took him to be a power hungry fool who would chose a wife from the ranks of the most powerful purebloods. No one, however, would have put a Knut on Alexandra Wilkinson.

It is not that Alexandra would have made a bad wife, or that she was so totally unlike Snape as to make their union tense and fraught with conflict; it was merely how overwhelmingly shy she was. No-one knew she was pureblood or that her family was every bit as prestigious as the Blacks or the Malfoys, no-one guessed her crippling timidity prevented her from sharing her love of learning with her friends or her teachers, no-one guessed that behind her tip-toeing exterior lay a will of steel and the pure-blood backbone that had given some the strength to stand against Voldemort and others the power-hunger to join him. They saw what they were meant to see and that was perhaps best for both Alexandra and Snape himself.

***

"Oiy! Zandra! ZANDRA!!" the seventeen-year-old male was leaning over the banister of the first floor staircase and yelling rather ineffectually into the throng of students leaving the Great Hall. The girl he was hailing didn't react visibly but she did change her course, heading for the nearest classroom rather than her common room deep in the bowls of the castle.

He slipped in a moment later and the pair embraced quickly, the comforting hug of close friends long separated. "Your voice finally broke Donny, maybe now you'll be a real man." She said when they released, her voice slightly above its normal whisper, showing her ease. There was pause and she turned away, tears welling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Donny, I hate relying on you all the time, you must be sick of my turning to you with my problems and using you as a shoulder to cry on…"

"Easy, easy. That's more like talk for lovers than friends and you're not my type remember?" He flashed a clearly manufactured smile, showing perfect white teeth. Though his words and voice was teasing his face showed nothing but concern for his friend. "Slughorn?" He asked with a sigh. "You didn't want him to leave." She shook her head, despondent.

"I didn't want him to be replaced. He understood me, he was like me; he hated the limelight but still liked to be in on the action. Professor Snape is..."

"Less understanding, less kind, less likely to be sympathetic, scary, stupid, cruel, mean..." Donny rattled off the list with remarkable ease. That is, until Alexandra gave him a playful shove and he somersaulted over a desk, landing on his feet. He laughed, carefree and she joined in, echoing his laughter with her empty alternative. He winked. "Chin up, doll face," he whispered the remnants of his American accent, strengthened by his time there over the holidays, returning full-force for the typically American phrase. He kissed her swiftly on each cheek and bowed his way out the door, blowing a final kiss as it his head disappeared behind it. She smiled and slid off the desk running after Donny into an empty hall.

She sighed and turned towards the dungeon stairwell that lead to her common room, the after-feast crowds had dispersed and Alex realised with a sinking feeling she ought to be in bed. She raced down the dungeon stairs two at a time. Not for a minute did she believe what Donny had said about Professor Snape but she still wanted to make a reasonable impression, one that wouldn't cause him to think her slow or hate her for her stammering, near inaudible voice.

She rounded a corner and smacked into a wall of Slytherin male. She stepped back to behold the sixth-year Malcolm Davies. Aside from being almost as wide as the corridor itself and just as thick he held a personal grudge against Alex because she had dropped out of her seeker spot on _his_ Quidditch team after he refused to allow her (or any girl) to try out for the more dangerous beating position. She groaned and dove away from the punch he threw at her.

She tried to dodge past him into the corridor behind but he turned with surprisingly fast reflexes and knocked the breath from her lungs with a punch in the gut. Winded she backed away, hissing a hex from clenched teeth. He gawped at her with a brainless smile. She blinked; clearly that was the wrong spell. He shook his head out, removing the effects of the spell, whatever it was. He lunged at her and the world slowed, _Imperio-No..._ Desperation supplied the spell and before it could be stopped her wand reacted. Being quiet, non-verbal spells were easy for her and to even think an incantation was dangerous.

Davies stopped dead. Before his face had shown little intelligence and primal anger was the only emotion visible; now his face was blank with no sign of any intelligence. As the power flooded through her she felt elated: confident, even.

"Davies?" Two Slytherin boys peered round Davies bulk to see Alex standing tall, if unsure, idly turning her ebony wand over in her pale hands. "What're you doing with the Wilkinson chav?"

Alex snarled, enraged. _Get them_. She thought at Davies, smiling to see her every order obeyed, as he turned on his friends with the ruthless brutality otherwise reserved for Gryffindors. Even as she rejoiced to see Davies and his cronies take a beating from each other a part of her rejected the cruel-mindedness that came with the use of an Unforgivable Curse.

There was her family to consider as well. Despite knowing her family had been in Voldemort's inner circle, what atrocities they had done in the name of purging the Wizarding world of scum, she had never once considered turning them in. Given the multitude of dark magic she herself knew (not just the Unforgivables but other similar spells and potions.) it seemed foolish to turn in her own family some of whom where more hapless and innocent than she herself.

She backed against the wall elbowing someone in the side as she did so, and with an incredible amount of will managed to force out the words: "Finite Incantatem." At once the scene changed; Davies took one wide-eyed look at Alex and fled, grabbing one of his shadows by the scruff of the neck as he disappeared in to the labyrinthine dungeon passages. The other boy, who looked as though he had been elbowed, lay gasping on the ground totally breathless.

"What's going on here?" said a soft, deadly voice. She turned to see the new Potions Master and Head of her House standing disapprovingly in the stairwell behind her. He turned to Alexandra since the guy she'd elbowed in the stomach was still gasping in pain and unable to talk. She struggled with to string a sentence together without mentioning the curse, but gave it up quickly. "Well?" he asked, impatiently.

"She-did... something," the boy on the floor choked. Snape's eyes immediately swiveled to pierce him. "To Davies... made him..." He collapsed into fits of coughing intermixed with tears. Alex moved without thinking, muttering an incantation meant to clear the throat almost silently. Instantly Snape's eyes swept over her. "Attack us. It was high Dark Magic or sommat similar." The boy concluded, now reendowed with his breath.

"Detention, I think..." Professor Snape said silkily, once he realised Alex did not intend to add anything. She nodded, unwilling to protest his ruling with her heart and head so conflicted as to how much she could say. "I'll expect you at my office at 7pm every evening this week."

She nodded and he swept away in a swirl of black cloth, leaving Alex with her unfortunate. He too did not hang around; being friends with those of Hufflepuff stock he darted around her in the direction of the kitchens. She stared after him for a moment, rubbing her head in exhaustion and then she walked off into the depths of the dungeons, the only thoughts in her mind of bed and sleep.

The following morning Donny met Alexandra as she made her way to breakfast. They spent a minute comparing their timetables: Alexandra had chosen to take Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology and Arithmancy in six year; Donny had Charms, Herbology, Muggle Studies, Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. She was pleased with that, given her results were likely to be of no relevance to what she ended up doing.

One of her Slytherin classmates tapped her on the back, as he raced into the Great Hall for breakfast. "Hurry up Wilkinson!" the seventh year called back. "Otherwise all the sausages will be gone."

Donny rolled his eyes "Lucky you managed to come up with that investing in USA business story or we wouldn't be allowed to be friends," he said dryly heading over to join his fellow Ravenclaws. She smiled quietly, her confidence fading as he darted away. She turned to the Slytherin table to join her impatient classmates.

The group of sixth years parted and she slid on to the bench, spearing the last sausage with her fork as she did so.

"Ah, Wilkinson," a boy called Parkinson, the Quidditch captain spoke first, "In trouble already I hear."

She nodded, using her wand to reply with her mouth full. "Davies decided he'd take advantage of my being alone to prove once and for all girls can't beat boys at violent sports."

"You gave as good as you got I hear," Zabini sat beside her, having jostled his way past the gaggle of first years who were staring wide-eyed at her. "Flint's still in the Hospital Wing. Isn't that right Marcus?" he yelled the last comment at a burly first year with a no-nonsense face and clenched firsts spun to face them.

"Are you the one who attacked my big brother?" he grunted, prompting a laugh from the assembled crowd. Alex winced.

"My name is Alexandra Wilkinson." She didn't look up at him, her face red with embarrassment but determined to say her bit, "Your brother got what he deserved." A soft _Oooh_ ran through the assembled crowd. Alex had always been quiet, with few friends even among her fellow Slytherins. There was Zabini of course and Parkinson was never unkind to members of his team but there was little endearing about her and she hadn't the gall to fight her way up the greasy pole.

"SHUT UP!" Flint Jr. screamed angrily "I'll get you one day Wilkinson, I'll get you." He was pushed away by a fifth year and conversation began once more.

"He'd be a good Quidditch player I hear." That was Parkinson, staring dreamily after the boy, his mind clearly 25 feet up in the air. "Which reminds me, Alex, are you going to grace the team with your presence this year?"

She shook her head, reaffirming her mind in quiet but firm tones. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, if you continue to be pushed around by Davies and refuse to let me beat when my record is ten times that of the apes you currently play, I will not be playing for the team this season, the least you could do is respect my wishes."

He opened his mouth to retort and stopped, having been beaten to the bush by a smooth voice. "I think perhaps you should reconsider your position, unless you would like to spend every game in detention."

Alexandra peered round into the critical eyes of Professor Snape. "If you don't mind, sir, I'd rather take the detentions." Unable to hold his gaze, timid as she was, she turned back to her cornflakes.

"Well it's a pity you don't have a choice." She didn't bother to turn back, hearing the swish of his cloak and knowing he was long gone.

Someone whistled softly. "How'd you get on his bad side Wilkinson? I hexed two Hufflepuffs in front of him and he didn't bat an eyelid."

She carefully looked from one intent face to another and whispered: "I cursed Davies last night, a serious curse mind, nothing light."

There was a hushed murmur; Zabini whistled. "Which one? An Unforgivable?" Alex nodded and the group instantly broke up, each one with a relative lingering in gaol or just managing to avoid captivity, each one very aware of the risks if they were discovered discussing such things. Nothing ran thicker than blood as far as the Slytherins were concerned. All or most of the house was related to Alex through various families and the rest could be coerced into helping out should anything happen to her or a relative, even though she wasn't a popular girl and had never been part of the social scene.

"What's his blood status?" Zabini asked from beside her, changing the topic at the drop of a hat

"Half-blood." Parkinson's reply came between bites of a bacon sandwich.

"Yeah... _Snape_ is a fairly Muggle name isn't it?" Zabini gave his reply at top speed, giving Alex the feeling that they were merely engaging in a war over his status in order to avoid suspicions.

"Yeah, but wasn't his mother some potions whiz? A Pierce or something similar." A sixth year interjected. Alex thought of Donny wondering if anyone other than a Slytherin would know or care about such things.

"Ellie Prince?" Parkinson swallowed a mouthful of cornflakes as he mused. "Maybe, maybe..."

"That means he's at least a line of blood traitors, even if he's somewhat pure." That was Zabini, on his high horse on genealogy again. Alex elbowed him into silence and conversation turned to lessons, giving Alex time to finish her meal in silence, once or twice glancing slyly up at the staff table to check on her newly made enemy.

Her day passed lazily until 7 o'clock. She spent her only lessons, Arithmancy and Transfiguration going over the theory for non-verbal spells, something she had more or less mastered in the two week Christmas holiday in her fourth year. She had not been given homework and many of her fellow seventh years were making plans to sneak out to the kitchens and steal all the elf made wine and any other stores of alcohol that could be found. Now that they knew Snape would be occupied, albeit with Alex's detention, the plan had become more concrete and they intended to actually do it.

"How much longer?" Davies moaned from the couch where he was lolling idly.

Alex checked her watch. "It's five to seven, I should get going," She stood, feeling uncomfortable so close to Davies. "When I know he's settled down to my hour's torture I'll give you a sign."

"How will we know?" That was Zabini, sitting cross-legged on a green, squashy armchair. Alexandra smiled nervously.

"Trust me, you'll know." There was a collective groan from the assembled sixth and seventh years.

"Please not another piece of filthy Muggle trash!" someone yelled from the back of the group. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh come on don't tell me you still haven't worked out how to turn it off!" she exclaimed, gesturing at the Muggle radio she'd bewitched to turn on at her whim. It was her only way of extracting any form of revenge against her fellow students, all of whom had taken advantage of her extreme timidity at one stage or another. Slytherins had blood that ran thicker than water but were more than happy to tear each other apart from within- it was just outsiders that needed to be defended against.

They fell silent, no one wanting to admit he'd tried and failed to operate the device, or that they didn't want it to turn off, which was true for nearly all of them. She sighed, "Well you'll just have to wait 'til I get back." With that she walked backwards through the wall that was the exit to the common room and headed deeper into the labyrinthine dungeons, to her detention with Professor Snape.

When she reached his office she paused, hesitant. She raised her hand and knocked, the impact on the dark wood making a hollow sound. "Enter." His already familiarly soft voice issued from within. The door swung open independent of her actions and she stepped over the threshold. The room was dank and dark, each wall half-covered with shelving on which various jars, bottles and other forms of containers sat. Each contained a uniquely grotesque ingredient or mixture, including several that made Alexandra squirm in revulsion. He seemed to realise this and they spent several minutes in silence before he spoke, giving her time to revel in the unpleasantness of the room.

"If we may begin?" he drawled finally, she spun to face him, realizing too late that she had become absorbed in the complexity of the room and had turned her back on him. He was sitting behind his desk, which was neater than it had been in Slughorn's day, his face merely a constant benchmark of disdain and dissatisfaction.

She nodded, meekly and he continued. "You have demonstrated a continual disrespect for your elders and the rules and traditions of your school. In short you were caught using a form of magic Hogwarts and the greater magical community shuns. As such it is my duty," he sneered, "my pleasure to over the course of the coming week to instruct you in the virtues you lack." He stood, glaring out at her from behind the desk. Alex nodded, what he said was justified and she did not doubt how sincere his intentions were, how easily he would break her, how quickly he would snap, killing her without a second thought.

"I expect a verbal answer from you, if you please," he said icily.

"Yes, sir," she said, meekly, automatically, with the monotonal aspect her voice held when she felt particularly shy or nervous, which was most of the time.

His lip curled, "Your re-education will begin tonight." He gave a lazy flick of his wand and the room wall filled with dirty, scum filled cauldrons that looked like the product of a day of first year potions. "Cleaning potions equipment." Another flick of the wand provided her with an array of cleaning equipment. "Begin."

The work took hours, the only thing comforting her was that her friends were enjoying being thoroughly inebriated and hopefully dancing away to Muggle tunes like _Roxanne_ given she'd turned the radio on as soon as Snape had rebuffed her for not replying verbally and had not yet even considered turning it off.

After a period of time that was well over three hours, he stopped her. She had cleaned well over three quarters of the caldrons, yet he inspected them without comment, a sure sign he was unimpressed. Finally he spoke, "That will do for this evening," He waved his wand and the cauldrons disappeared. "Same time tomorrow." She nodded, mute and left the confines of his office eagerly; keen to see the extent of her classmate's revelry in the face of Muggle music.


	2. II An Injection of Plot?

II

The common room was filled with comatose drunks; most of her classmates on were assembled on the floor or the couches. Zabini sat in the only surviving armchair, his bottle in one hand his head in the other and bits of cotton wool in his ears. She tiptoed over to him and thought viciously _Levicorpus_; with a bang he jumped a foot in the air and stayed there. For a few seconds he looked around with a bemused expression, then she thought the counter curse and he landed upside down in the chair.

She laughed as he struggled to right himself, eventually grabbing the leg of a sixth year and pulling himself onto the floor with heaving breath. At long last he stood, "How was detention?" He asked, with all the dignity he could muster.

"Good. How was the Muggle trash?" she asked, nodding her head at the unmoving mob.

"Better than I expected, it only took three or four drinks to make it sound better than my parents' music."

"I should really turn it off now though." she said, pointing at the radio with her wand.

"No, NO!" he said, quickly, stepping between her and the radio, dropping his eyes to the floor significantly.

"Davies?" she asked following his line of sight. "Who with?"

He blinked and looked away. "Little sister Zabini," he said finally, never once letting his voice go above the level of a whisper.

"Tessa?" she mouthed, "Oh God, I'm so sorry," she said putting a hand comfortingly around Zabini's shoulder. He shook away from her, eyebrows raised.

"Slytherins don't have friends, remember?" He said, smiling, then he turned, suddenly a serious authority. "EVERYONE UP!" he yelled, shaking the two nearest inebriates "BED, NOW!" with much moaning and groaning the mob stirred, not wanting to get on the wrong side of a prefect. He winked at Alex, reminding her briefly of Donny. "Prefects have got to stick together, right?"

She nodded, helping to shepherd the sodden upstairs. Slughorn's only useful act of favoritism had been to make her a prefect. "Now if you could just get me out of detention…" she joked, jostling a lagging fifth year who had somehow managed to join the party. When the common room was empty she began to clean the room, righting upturned pieces of furniture and pilling the empty bottles into a pyramid.

When it looked moderately respectable she yawned. "Bed, I think.' she said, beginning to make her slow way down the stairs to her bedroom. "G'night, Zabini," she called; stopping at the landing where the male/female split began. He stumbled after her and she had to turn him around and shove him in the right direction. "See you in the morning, Zabini." She said wearily and was answered with a slurred 'Night' She sighed, shaking her head. Her mind already asleep, her body followed as soon as she fell into bed.

The next morning she awoke to the joyous sound of a mass hangover. She dressed quickly bumping into Zabini's twin sister on her way up the stairs. Alex nodded at her, but she didn't respond, no doubt still in shock after waking up alongside the consequences of last night. She pulled her timetable from the pocket of her robes. She had Charms first up, followed by Potions after lunch. So, a mixed day, all things considered, the second half with high levels of Snape, the first with high levels of Donny.

He met her at the Entrance Hall as he had the previous day, cheerful as ever. "You got detention I hear," was his greeting, accompanied by a dazzling smile. She was saved having to respond when Zabini made his slow, stormy way up the steps behind her.

"Always a day behind Ravenclaw," he said dryly. "Tell me, why do they go on about how smart you are if you're behind on gossip before the end of the first week?" Donny let his barbs slid harmlessly off his back, ignoring them as he had done much worse jibes; most of them not-so-clever puns on words like 'fairy'.

When the reached the Great Hall he peeled off to join his fellow Ravenclaws with a mock bow to Zabini, "Excuse me, milord, milady. I'm off to catch up on the gossip I missed." With that he was gone, disappearing into the crowd with out a backward glance. Zabini glared at her and she shrugged.

"At least he's respectful...?" she offered, trying to make his performance that little bit better. Zabini snorted. "I know, I know but what else is there to say?" she asked, guiding him to a seat and piling his plate with as much she could find. She then poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice and sat back to watch him eat.

He laboured long and hard over every mouthful, stopping only to glare at Davies when, halfway through the meal, he walked in with Tessa on his arm. Alex watched him approach, drawing her wand resolutely. She only had to look at Zabini for a second to know she would risk infringing the rule against Dark Magic to keep Davies away from him; she didn't doubt that Zabini would gladly duel Davies but Davies would kill him. _Imperio_, Alex thought, watching Davies halt opposite Zabini. He turned slowly and gormlessly to look at Zabini then he turned back and took Tess to a different spot halfway down the table. She sighed and wiped her brow, smiling nervously when Zabini looked curiously over at her. "I guess Young is rubbing off on me," she said apologetically and then by way of distraction; "Eat."

He returned to his food, eating mechanically rather than with any real feeling. "What 'ave oo gob oday?" he asked through one mouthful.

"Charms, then Potions." she replied, "I wonder how our new Head of House stacks up against Slughorn..."

He pushed his plate away, leaving only the kippers untouched. "Since he probably has favourites just like old Sluggy and you didn't make the shortlist?" he said, glancing quickly up at the Staff table, "Badly unless you find some way to get in his good books."

She sighed. "And that is likely to happen what? Once in a blue moon?" she said, remorsefully.

Zabini pursed his lips thoughtfully "Still, I would have loved to be there, see you use an Unforgivable..." She made a face at him and stood.

"See you at Potions," she said, noticing Donny lingering at the doorway for her. She picked up her bag and shuffled over to join him.

They climbed the Great Staircase to the first floor Charms classroom together. It was empty when they got there, so they picked out their favourite table, near the window and waited. Donny slid onto the desk behind theirs and tiled his head to one side.

"How was detention?" he asked, overly cheerfully in Alex's opinion. She sighed, sitting on a chair with an air of refinement Donny lacked at that particular moment.

"Arduous," she said, "Scrubbing the first years' cauldrons with Muggle methods. Fun."

He gave her a sly look. "Even with the hot Potions Master presiding?" Alex choked, doubled over with hysteria.

"Excuse me?" she asked finally when she could speak again.

"Well, I'd do him." Donny said cheerfully.

"Yes, but you have terrible taste in men," she rejoined.

"And even worse taste in women," he replied, looking moodily over her shoulder at the blackboard. Alex pushed him off the table, he did a back flip and pulled himself gradually back on top of the desk with much theatrics. Alex ignored him. "Well if I have such bad taste in men, what do your hormones tell you? Is he hot or what?"

"Well..." She had never in the two days she had known the new teacher even considered the fact he might be attractive to anyone, let alone Donny. "He's really not that good-looking."

"But he is somewhat good-looking?" he said blowing a kiss her way in the worst impersonation of a teacher she had ever seen.

"Ew. Donny!" She giggled at his incredibly camp nature, stopping to put down his idea, with "He's a half-blood so... really, he's got no chance."

"I don't know though." Donny actually looked as if he considered them a likely pair, which scared her, "He'd be easy to sell to the folks."

"Mmm... How?" Alex asked, confused.

"Did you read the papers this summer Zandra?" he sighed.

"Well I was in Intensive Care in St Mungo's for most it. So... I'd say not."

"Ah, well, you see he was on trial for being a Death Eater and Dumbledore said he'd been acting as sort of a double agent, all you'd have to say to your parents is he's a spy and the height of cool!" Alex snorted, beset with images of Snape looming behind pillars listening in on conversations.

"That's so likely to please my parents." Alex said sarcastically, '"Oh, Mum, Dad come met my lover. He's also my teacher, a half-blood and hates the Dark Lord.' They'd be sold."

"Well then, tell them the bit about being a Death Eater without the spy thing. Maybe they won't notice."

Alex raised her eyebrows. "That's likely. Remind me again why we're discussing ways to convince my parents to approve of my relationship with a far older half-blood whom we have already established I don't find alluring?" Donny shrugged and was saved from having to answer by the arrival of Flitwick and the rest of class.

Charms was much like Transfiguration and Arithmancy. The Professor droned on and on about non-verbal spells, asked Alex to demonstrate which she did, grudgingly. Flitwick gave her no homework, which was nice of him but that was mainly because she'd made a frustrated face when he'd announced that revising non-verbal spells would be the subject of the term's work and they wouldn't learn any new spells until after Christmas.

The bell went and they made their way back to the Great Hall for lunch. "Well that lesson was totally pointless," Alex sighed as they left. "Am I going to learn anything at all this year?" Donny's perverted smile shut her up.

"You could ask Professor—"

"Don't say anything," she hissed, pressing her wand into his face.

"Alright, alright." He backed away from her, hands in the air. "I wasn't going to say nothin'."

"Good," she snarled, pocketing her wand.

"... Just that you should go talk to Professor Snape; he'd find something for you to do." He grinned smuttily at her and ducked her hex dancing away into the Great Hall. She followed him into the Great Hall at speed. There she stopped, just a few inches away from crashing into her least favourite teacher, who really she'd seen enough of this week already. As the rest of her day seemed to contain nothing other than the man who loomed above her she found herself thinking of only the most rude things to say to him and his eyes of bottomless, disapproving abhorrence. None of which she would ever entertain any thought of actually saying to any teacher.

"Excuse me, sir," she said, stepping to one side to allow him to pass and looking down deliberately to avoid having to look at his face, which would only make her think of her discussion with Donny and his various rude comments. Alex could feel his eyes boring into her and she tried to find something else to say. "Was there something you wanted?"

"I merely wished to enquire whether or not you were intending to..."

She turned to look at the motionless hulk of flesh that was the still Imperioused Davies "Oh."

He waited for a deliberately long time before sentencing her: "Clearly your current course of rehabilitation is not going to be sufficient. You will attend detention for the next fortnight and on Saturday mornings for the rest of the year," he hissed so dangerously she physically trembled.

"Y-yes sir," she muttered, deliberately looking at her shoes and not his face. "I'd be more than happy to sacrifice my blossoming Quidditch career to learn to respect people like you."

If she had been looking at his face, she would no doubt have been excessively pleased with what she saw; the look of hatred on his face so gratifying it almost made her detentions worth it. "On days when Parkinson requires you to attend practices or games you will be accompanied to the Quidditch pitch by the rest of your team, you will stay for the whole game and then return to my office where you will undergo a revised form of detention. Injury will not excuse you from it," he whispered, his voice incredibly calm for someone so ruthless.

He strode off, back down the Slytherin Table, pausing once or twice to talk to students. She watched his path until he reached the staff table before she realised she wasn't in the mood to eat. She turned and walked back to the common room, where she lay on her bed for half an hour, letting her anger slowly fade into apathy. An effort that was likely to be made futile by the two and a half hours of Potions she had next.

When the time came for her to rejoin her classmates in the Dungeons she moaned softly into her pillow and dragged herself off the bed onto the floor. From that position she heaved herself to her feet and began to gradually force herself to walk out the common room wall and down to Potions. The classroom was every bit as slimy as she remembered, with a smoky aroma to it, which smelled of rotten eggs and oddly enough, limes. Clearly the first years had failed another class.

Zabini was sitting at their old desk. He waved when she entered and called her over. "Where were you at lunch?" he asked, shifting his books so that she could sit next to him. She shrugged.

"I wasn't hungry."

"Alex, what did you have for breakfast?" he asked gently.

"Orange juice," she said, "Your eating was too disturbing for me to keep anything down myself."

He smiled kindly, "And did you have dinner last night?" Alex blinked; she hadn't had lunch yesterday or dinner, mainly because eating had been more or less continually unappealing since the events of the previous summer, most of which did not bare thinking about. "That's what I thought." She was spared having to veer him off that disturbing subject by Snape's, for once timely, arrival.

The class hushed instantly. Snape waved his wand and a cauldron appeared before him at the front of the room. "This NEWT class is the most challenging of all NEWT classes. To pass Potions at NEWT level a student must have a deep understanding of the affects of every element of potion-making; a wide variety of ingredients at their disposal and an understanding of the uses of each, a student intending to sit the NEWT exam must know the processes of Potion making and why the simmering, stirring and estilling is required to correctly brew potions. In addition each of you must be able to correctly recognize all of the Potions you will encounter throughout this year..." He let his words hang for sometime. Each member of the class looked equally intense and Alex wondered if his skill as a wordsmith were matched by his skills as a Potions Master. "Wilkinson." She flinched and looked up, Snape gestured for her to approach the cauldron. She swallowed and did as directed. "Identify that potion for me." She nodded and focused on the potion. Her brow furrowed in concentration. From what she could tell the potion was an altered form of the Draught of Peace She inhaled, detecting a hint of lavender that confused her somewhat. She frowned. What purpose would that serve? "When you're ready, Miss Wilkinson," Snape drawled lazily.

She coughed, awkwardly clearing her throat. "I'm sorry sir, I don't quite know what it is," she mumbled, feeling rather than seeing his sneer.

Snape gave a noise that signified displeasure and waved her back to her seat. "For those of you who are interested in learning potions, this is the Draught of Peace, a simple potion you should be familiar with by now." Alex squirmed, uncomfortable and ignored the jibe. Snape directed them to a potion more complex than any they had made previously, gave one or two directions on how to proceed and let them loose on the ingredients cupboard.

"What's the matter with you?" Zabini asked as he handed her a box of Wartcap Powder. "You know more about Potions than anyone I know, including Slughorn."

"That's not the 'pure' Draught of Peace." Alex hissed back, "It's got something different about it, can't you tell?"

Zabini shook his head, "What's different?"

"Lavender." Alex said darkly, lighting her cauldron with her wand. Taking one look at the firm line her mouth made, the only indication that she was irate, Zabini wisely decided to change the subject. "What about this potion?" he asked, tapping his copy of Advanced Potion Making so that it opened to a page showing the subject of that day's lesson. Alex shook her head.

"Simmer for an extra minute here, don't add the Shrivelfig before it turns blue, don't leave it on the boil for more than a minute when you're done." Zabini nodded once and turned to his cauldron. Alex grabbed his cuff and pulled him back around. "Don't do it." she urged. "He'll know."

"And?"

"You could get in trouble." she hissed.

"So?" Zabini asked recklessly. "How do you know that? It will improve on the book's instructions won't it?"

"What if he doesn't want us to improvise?" Alex asked, arms folded.

"Fine, fine." Zabini turned back to his cauldron and the lesson went on in silence. Her potion worked marginally worse than Zabini's, mainly because he was adding ingredients she had suggested to improve the potion behind her back more often that she used to, probably because the potion they were working on was fairly fumy. She felt her energy levels lower as the lesson went on. Zabini had been right, her blood sugar level was so low she couldn't concentrate properly. Twice she had been about to add a potentially explosive ingredient to her mixture before Zabini had reached over and stopped her.

She felt faint, the blood was pounding round her body, and her brain was screaming in protest. Her vision was blurred and she couldn't see through the cloud of smoke her concoction was making. Alex probably had added one or two incorrect items when Zabini wasn't looking, which would explain the hissing and the stench. She had time to give a soft moan before she fell forward, knocking her cauldron over and spilling the contents onto the floor. She had just time to hear Snape's furious snarl before she succumbed to a lack of nutrients and fell into oblivion.

***

She regained conscious in about the same place she had lost it. Snape had cared enough about her to have Zabini place her against the wall but not to fetch the Matron or anything. She blinked and tried to re-orientate herself with her surrounds. The classroom was empty, which suggested it was dinnertime and that class had finished sometime ago. Brilliant. She checked her watch: the time was ten to seven which gave her about five minutes to prepare for the grounding she was about to be given by Professor Snape.

She moaned and made a casual effort to move, which failed and felt for her wand, remembering with self-disgust she had left it on the desk after using it to slice and dice her newt liver. Bother.

There was a clatter from the doorway, she looked round and saw Donny standing there, looking the unhappiest she had ever seen him. He rushed to her side. "Are you alright?" he asked anxiously. "Zabini only just told me." She nodded, unable to speak her mind, as she so wanted to do, to tell him to find her wand. "Oh God Zandra I never should have given up Potions." He hugged her tightly, forcing a gasp from her lips.

He released her and stepped back, when he saw her raised eyebrows, he grinned. "I know I sucked at it but you need protecting girl!" She smiled, choking on her own laughter when she saw the shadow of a familiar looming figure on the floor behind Donny. She looked up into the black eyes of her teacher and whimpered softly, the tiny grains of happiness created inside by Donny crushed by his sudden, inconvenient appearance.

Donny followed her gaze, turned and stood. "Professor," he began, Alex's eyes closing with irritation as she recognized the sound of Donny gearing up for a fight. She opened them again almost immediately, realizing she wanted to watch the exchange almost as much as she wanted to get her wand back and get some food.

"Mister Young," Snape's soft, dangerous voice was hardly comforting, especially given the deadly tone it took at that moment in time. "I believe you are aware that Miss Wilkinson has detention with me now?" Donny nodded, mute and Snape continued silkily. "Then perhaps you would be kind enough to return to your Common Room, unless you would like to join us?"

Donny ignored Snape's suggestion; still standing protectively in front of Alex as if he was afraid that Snape would some how take in his head to kill her and that one hormonal teenage body could stop that. "She needs help, anyone could see that," he said, meeting Snape's piercing eyes with his own arrogant glare. "She hasn't eaten since yesterday morning."

Snape sneered at Donny, perhaps more showing his opinion of people who fail to sufficiently feed themselves than out of spite at the Ravenclaw. "Surely if she was so disabled she would tell me so herself, without hiding behind another." He paused, watching Donny's growing rebellion etch gradually into his face. "Then again, perhaps I over-estimated her."

Donny pulled himself up to his full height, which was a good five inches above Snape's, "Forgive my impudence, Professor," he began, "Surely you, being fully aware that she is unable even move at this time should take time to consider the ramifications of your actions and gather all the facts from a variety of reliable sources rather than simply punishing Alex for something that may not even be her fault." He was flushed with rage and speaking in an almost shout. "That would be the proper course of action, the one I have no doubt you took on Sunday night, didn't you?"

For a second Alex thought Snape would slap Donny. He certainly looked far beyond reason, for a second. When he did speak he was perfectly controlled, his voice the softest whisper she had ever heard him make, the most dangerous she had seen him "Twenty points from Ravenclaw, Mister Young." Donny didn't blink. "Now I suggest you step aside and let me tend to Miss Wilkinson." Donny didn't move.

"Don't you dare hurt her," he threatened, wand at the ready. Alex groaned softly, begging Donny not to be an idiot. Snape, however seemed to find his antics amusing,

"I assure you Mister Young had I any intention of abusing any of my pupils the one you are so devotedly protecting is hardly top of my list," he said coolly, brushing past the boy to loom in front of Alex. Donny stood behind his shoulder carefully watching. Snape merely looked her up and down once before rising and crossing into his office.

Donny whistled softly once he had left. "He really needs to get laid," he mumbled to Alex, "I don't suppose you'd consider...? No." He dismissed the idea, thankfully, a second before Snape returned, carrying a vial of foul smelling liquid. He handed it to Donny.

"As you are ever keen to play the devoted friend would you be so kind as to administer this to Miss Wilkinson?" he asked curtly, "I shall fetch a Slytherin to help her to her dormitory." He swept from the room with the force of a gale.

Donny tilted Alex's head gently back, pouring the liquid into her open mouth and watching as she swallowed eagerly. "Boy, am I glad I don't have to taste that." He said softy sniffing the empty vial. Alex smiled and made a face at him, feeling strength return to her, bit by bit. When Snape arrived with Tess Zabini in tow she could just about stand unaided.

Tessa slid one arm under Alex's a pulled her to her feet: behind her back she could feel Donny and Snape glaring at each other. Tess didn't seem to want to waste time lingering so she was swiftly escorted from the room, leaving Donny alone with Snape, something she didn't think would last long.

Tessa hurried her into the common room before she could look back to check on him, depositing her on a chair as she hobbled downstairs to bed. Alex glared ungratefully at her retreating back. "Yeah, thanks a lot," she muttered sarcastically. Having forced herself to walk slowly into the dormitory she collapsed on the bed, aided by a quick-change spell. Within a minute she was asleep, having spent around thirty seconds pondering what she had learnt that day, namely that Snape was not so long ago a Death Eater, giving rise to a host of horrid images within the depths of her mind.


	3. III Why not to have dreams and birthdays

III

Alex crouched behind the thin piece of wood that was the only barrier between herself and the people her parents were currently entertaining. If entertaining was indeed the right word, then entertainment was more harmful than she had first thought. The tortured screams of her mother had woken her two hours past and the desperate pleas of her father, mercy, forgiveness, death, had drawn her instinctively to the servant's passage to the library. The guests that had abused her parents across the course of the evening had dropped their voices to whispers, low, threatening hints punctuated with high shrieks of laughter from the female member of the pair.

She pressed hard against the wood of the door, straining to hear but a word of the conversation taking place within:

"You were warned, Wilkinson." That was the male, cooler and more collected than his banshee of a comrade. "The Dark Lord gave instructions, instructions you promised to obey."

"Please." At times, indeed oftener than not, Alex felt her father failed to fully grasp situations. Begging was not going to help. "My wife, my daughter..."

"Why yes, I forgot to ask your preference, would you prefer to die before or after they do? Before has it's advantages—you don't have to watch—but I find some take heart knowing just how much pain their loved ones can endure before the end." Alex shuddered, the cold washing slowly over her at the casual mention of her fate.

"Speaking of your daughter," the voice continued, silkily, "where exactly are you hiding her?" It was as if the bonds tying her to her position, those that kept her from fleeing had been severed. She backed up, crawling down the dark passage in an attempt to escape. Her foot hit a sideboard and the vase that had been precariously perched atop it crashed to the floor. There was silence from the library; the door was wrenched open, illuminating her figure. A shadow fell across her body, she looked up into wild, staring eyes and whimpered softly. The woman took a step toward her and she scrambled to her feet and ran. Her chances, she knew, were hardly good. The only thing in her favour was that this was her house, she knew it as well as... most of the pureblooded community. Brilliant. The woman, Bellatrix Lestrange, her bloody second cousin, had the advantage of speed, skill and control. If that wasn't enough, Lucius Malfoy was holding her parents captive in a room somewhere behind her, something that made her feel even less comfortable than she would have been, were circumstances even that tiny bit less unfortunate.

Her run took her through parts of the house she had not visited for years—when you have a mansion and are a moody teenager that prefers dark hallways and passages, bright, light filled rooms are not often frequented; it happens more than you would think. Eventually she made her way down several different flights of stairs and found herself, so happily, in the winding maze of a basement. She lost herself, running now through what was now a labyrinth of her own making, rather than the one she had traversed in reality little more than two months earlier.

She tripped, her foot caught in a root that had somehow forced itself between the cobblestones and into the basement. She hissed in pain, seeing blood on the cold stone and feeling it gush from cuts on her face, arms and knees. Alex twisted around, hearing footsteps that heralded the arrival of her pursuer. The black hooded figure glided across the floor toward her. She fought desperately to free herself, tugging violently at the root that bound her, seeming only to tighten as she struggled.

The shadow drew near and she abandoned her battle, desperately searching her pocket for her wand. It must have fallen out—she couldn't find it. The figure raised a hand to tug away the grotesque mask that hung about his face. She dragged in a shaking shudder of a breath; instead of the familiar and somewhat comforting if deranged relative she had been expecting, the personage before her was that of her beloved Potions Master.

She opened her mouth to scream and found herself unable to make even the most pitiful of pleas. Her tongue burned with pain and her eyes widened in terror. His mouth twisted in a cruel distortion of a smile and she cringed away from his terrible presence. He knelt in front of her; the slight tinges of kindness he had borne the night they met were gone, replaced with ever-increasing malice and his trademark sneer.

She opened her mouth in a final, wordless scream and woke to sweat-soaked sheets and the cold knowledge that this nightmare that had haunted her all these months was steadily getting worse. It also confirmed her fears that her anxiety toward her Head of House had grown into something akin to a phobia.

She sat up and put her head in her hands. It was Sunday, the second day November and as a result of last night's rather extensive party the dormitory was empty, save for her and Tess's cat, Tommy. Alex doubted Donny or Zabini would be having a similar experience, both boys lacking her restraint pertaining to alcohol and sex.

She made her way past the bare common room and through the echoing corridors until she ascended the dungeon stairs and made her way into the Great Hall. It was early in morning for a Sunday and even the Teacher's table was half full. She was the oldest student in the room. She sat in her normal place, with no one closer than two metres away. She glanced around, checking to see if Snape was anywhere near. He was, gliding toward her with a superior smile.

"Miss Wilkinson," he said smoothly as he approached, she quivered slightly but tried not to show it. "Not indulging in rule breaking again I hope?" She shook her head, quickly adding items to her plate at random. He smirked and strode off, pausing when half a metre away, in an action she knew was calculated to cause further intrusion. "I'm sure I won't be the first to pass on my congratulations; happy birthday."

"Oh," she said softly, thinking dejectedly of her friends who had all deserted her, of how depressing her life was, her most hated, feared teacher was the first to wish her many happy returns. "Thank you sir." She was glad she didn't talk like normal people; her soft quaking shudders and sobs would otherwise have been betrayed in her reply.

Alex began to eat her food in slow mournful solace, broodily reflecting on her life. When her plate was covered with half eaten food two owls swept down and landed in the middle of her food. She pulled the letter from the left hand one and read. It was the traditional letter from the parents, wishing her well, expressing regrets they couldn't be here and that her childhood had gone so fast.

The parcel that had accompanied it contained a hardcover copy of her family tree and a note reading: _I know, your father thinks you ought to up brush on your family history, I'll do the Christmas shopping. I promise_. She smiled, shaking her head at her mother's naïveté. The book was really a cleverly disguised dark magic manual, also a subject her father wanted her to brush up on but one her mother would have been less happy to send. She still intended to read it; Dark Magic was too akin to the Death Eaters, Bellatrix and Snape in her mind to ignore and there was a part of her that had been entranced with the power, the solitude, of the art.

The second was a card from her Godmother and family, with a similar theme, minus the thick book and in place of it, a necklace, which her godmother described as being 'full of powerful magic'. She didn't know whether they were to help her magic or to give to and curse her enemies. If it was the later, she didn't think the silver set jade serpent would be quite his thing... She smiled to herself, just picturing him in the jewelry cheering her up somewhat.

She wrapped the necklace carefully back up again and placed it in her pocket. The book she placed under her arm. She glanced down at her unfinished meal, which the owls were happily tucking into. They could have it and welcome; she couldn't taste it anyway, her loneliness making her sick to her stomach and they would enjoy it far more than she ever could.

She walked briskly back to the common room, dumping her book on her bed and placing the necklace carefully into the bottom of her bag, which she had emptied of books on Friday. She pulled her swimming costume from her suitcase, and stuffed it on top of the necklace. She hadn't been swimming since before her trauma in the holidays, the one that still manifested itself in dream, and she missed it.

Once outside she realised it was snowing, making her plans to swim slightly less appealing. Nevertheless she made her way to the side of the lake, depositing her bag under a tree and magically interchanging her clothes for her swimmers. She glowered blackly up at the castle, where her friends were no doubt only just waking with hangovers and no idea that it was her birthday, a year to the day from her coming of age, a supposedly 'happy' occasion.

She sighed, quickly charming her body to maintain an acceptable temperature and not feel the icy chill of the water. She tucked her wand into the pocket her bathers had for that exact purpose. She walked to the edge of the water and dived. The water's harsh touch comforted her from the off. Instead of progressively washing her fears from her mind the lake clawed them from her memory, feeding them, she hoped, to the giant squid.

She dived, testing the limits of her breath and her eyesight. The murky water irritated her slightly but it was of little consequence given the grand scale of her problems. Alex surfaced again, giving her lungs a rest as she began to swim lengths of the lake in a rare display of healthy behavior.

She stopped after ten, lazing on her back and enjoying the picturesque view of Hogwarts Castle against the Scottish Highlands. She wondered if the lake would freeze over this year, if so when and if she was under the lake at the time they would allow her to stay there until it defrosted in early February. She flipped over and looked the Giant Squid in the eye. It winked at her, slowly closing one massive eyelid in what she took as her fourth 'Happy Birthday' and only the second made in person.

Despite her 'close encounter' with the _Creature of the Loch_ she kept a distance between her and the squid after that. The green water was a stark contrast to the world of white that constituted the world of air and dirt. '_Why do people fly?'_ she wondered and stopped up front. Snape, Quidditch and all her hates flooded back.

Alex swam ashore, screaming silent protests at the injustice of the world. She made her way to the tree and halted abruptly. Her bag, along with its contents was gone. She snarled, again without making even the slightest sound and walked off in a random direction in the vain hope she'd find her thief.

She strayed close to the fringes of the forest, which was where she'd hide if she had stolen something from anyone. It was then the tall, dark haired, overly thin man revealed himself.

"Hello," he drawled. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing out here all..." he grinned, baring sharp teeth at her, "alone."

Alex's hand went automatically to her wand. She didn't have time to do anything else because as soon as her hands closed around the handle the man jumped her, swiftly dragging her to the floor and pinning her to the ground. She struggled briefly, her wand hand trapped beneath some obscured part of his body.

"You think your stick will hurt me, little girl?" he leered. She blinked, the deep complexity of his garnet eyes dazzling her into bafflement. "Do you know what I am?"

She tried to ignore the question, to force herself away from the red of his eyes but it pulled her in like some kind of strange vortex. "I believe I do." She said, adopting the false, emotionless, voice she used when she didn't trust her normal voice not to betray her emotion.

His grin was terrible, his canine teeth grazing slightly against her cheek. "Do you?" he purred. "I am a vampire, little girl. Do you know what I do to little children such as yourself?"

Alex shrugged, "I had a vague idea it involved cutting the throat of your innocent victims and drinking their still, warm blood." Inwardly she winced, provoking a vampire was up there with slapping Snape on the list of things she felt she'd regret doing for the rest of her life. Her sarcastic nature might have slipped out more often if she didn't have to deal with the stuttery vocal chords she had been given at birth.

The vampire tilted his head and laughed. "Oh, but there is so much _more_ I could do with such a sweet body such as yours," he hissed, his eyes glittering. "However, as much as I would love to take my pleasure with you now, I have waited far too long for this." His cold hand closed around hers, gently pulling the wand from her fingertips. This action took the briefest of moments and gave her no space to react in anyway other than a gasp of protest.

She cursed silently. When aged seven her parents had paid magical martial arts instructors to teach her how to throw a man across a room. They had only one piece of advice for situations like hers: 'When the opponent is stronger, faster and as intelligent as you, hex him to hell'. Without a wand and pinned to the mercifully soft and snow covered ground, her position was becoming less and less escapable.

The vampire gave a sigh and lowered his mouth to her neck in an entirely futile gesture, as his teeth were long enough to pierce her throat with his mouth an inch away. She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable suffering.

All of a sudden, his weight was lifted off of her. She heard a snarl and then a crash and opened her eyes. He had hit a tree evidently, as one of them was broken nearly in half. One half lay on the ground, tree sap oozing from its mangled trunk. The vampire was staring behind her, his face contorted in a look of absolute loathing and fury.

"Who," he snarled, "do you think you _are_?"

She felt the blood he so coveted rush through her body at speed as the icy reply reached her ears: "That," she knew the voice, could heard the deliberate pause he made and caught her breath as he continued, "is none of your concern." She marveled at the way the vampire looked unfazed at this.

He huffed angrily, picking himself off the floor in one graceful movement and regaining whatever little dignity he still had left. "You are cheating me out of my prey; I should think it's every concern of mine." Suddenly his eyes narrowed. "Oh now I remember. Mr. Snape, isn't it?"

Alex didn't know how they knew each other and she had a feeling she wouldn't want to, the likelihood being that it would involve Snape's history as a Death Eater and the vampire's movement in similarly lowly circles. She didn't need to move from her position on the ground to know Snape was sneering. "James." His voice conveyed recognition but no affection.

James bent over in a mocking bow, arms outstretched, "What a pleasure it is to see you again," he said smoothly, ignoring the lack of warmth, coming from Snape, Alex and the atmosphere in general, which had caused snow to begin falling once more.

"You are wanted up at the castle I take it?" Snape said lazily, sending a hex in James's general direction, one that he dodged effortlessly, returning to his position within seconds of the hex's passing.

"Perhaps, but I do hate to leave my victims unsatisfied." His red eyes found Alex once more before he glanced back at Snape. "So if you would be so kind."

Although she would have preferred to go another round with the vampire, she knew Snape enjoyed his torment of her too much to allow it to be stolen from him by her death. "My apologies." Again, his voice was devoid of remorse, nay any emotion. "But in this case I believe the Headmaster would—ah—prefer my intervention." There was a silent _swish_ of a wand and her bag came sailing through the air to land with a thump on the ground beside her.

A muscle twitched in James's cheek and his eyes went from Alex to Snape several times before he gave a faint snort of irritation and promptly punctured his bottom lip with his fangs. "Bloody hell!" he spat, his tongue sweeping over his bloodless lips.

Muttering viciously in a language she couldn't understand, he disappeared, leaving her alone with her Potions master... again. She felt blindly for her bag. The snow was beginning to feel cold against her skin so she instinctively went for the wand she didn't have. Her mouth formed words she couldn't bring herself to articulate. James had her wand still, bother. Snape in this situation was less than helpful, given his history of ignoring her. She sat up; pulling her bag over to her to search in a futile attempt to find the damn thing, which she prayed wasn't still on the person of her attacker.

"If you would be so kind as to inform me, Miss. Wilkinson, why exactly were you going about trying to defeat a fully grown vampire? Without your wand, no less." Snape's silky tones interrupted her search just as she saw the wanted item, jammed hurriedly between two branches of a nearby tree. She stood, looked down at her swimming costume and looked up at him again, with eyebrows raised in what she hoped was a look of disdain.

It failed in a miserable manner, his cold, lengthy stare far out lasting her own. She backed off, in the general direction of the tree her wand was in. She watched him, as one would watch a hawk that drew slow, lazy circles around its prey. Alex was careful not to turn her back, an overreaction based mainly on her nightmare, the Snape that chased her there differing only slightly from the one that stood before her, his demeanor altered to hide what she guessed was the other persona, the dark, vicious Death Eater that was so haunting under Night's veil.

The bark of the tree brushed against her back, she started just as he asked "What are you doing Miss Wilkinson?" in the manner she most disliked, the tone that implied she was killing and raping the innocent rather than trying to retrieve her wand, something she had every right to do. She turned to glance over her shoulder at her wand, expecting Snape to follow her gaze, making it more obvious than was necessary.

"Ah, yes," he swept forward, encircling her in a cloud of black fabric, making her world, in a word, monochrome. "You are totally reliant on this..." his long, thin fingers plucked the wand from the bows of the tree and turned it over as he continued, considering her as he did so. She made a grab for her wand and he moved it just beyond her reach, a smirk flashing across his face for an instant. "Play nicely if you please," he rebuked teasingly, showing a side to his personality that scared her perhaps more than his normal manner.

She stopped abruptly and held out her hand for her wand. Tired of playing his game she became sullen, sulky, something she was unaccustomed to doing. He gave an uncharacteristic chuckle and she frowned.

"So quiet, Miss Wilkinson. Death Eater caught your tongue, hmmm?" She tensed, feeling her breath hitch she struggled to force her non-responsive limbs to turn, to run but they did not even twitch. "Relax, my dear, and I'll be quick." And then he descended on her, reveling in her silent screams and horror-filled eyes.

Donny ran down the narrow corridor that lead to Snape's office, it was a long shot, admittedly, he very much doubted the cranky Potions Master would even care that Zandra was missing. This fact alone made it unlikely he'd help them search, or that he'd know her whereabouts from the off. He neared the door to Snape's office and slowed, his footsteps echoed off the walls for a second and then faded into silence. He heard the distinctive voice of the Potions Master and knelt to listen.

"I am recovering perfectly thank you." Snape's superior tone was icy and his words were curt. "I do not need your—ah—assistance in this area, Dumbledore. I have taken full responsibility for my past failures and do not intend to dig a hole for myself again."

Donny felt sweat roll down his forehead, Snape spoke so openly to the headmaster, there were no tinges of respect to adorn his words and make then less cutting, how would Dumbledore react?

"Severus." The word was a warning albeit a gentle one. "I think you need to move on, find yourself someone who will love you as you deserve."

"I do not deserve anything's love, Dumbledore, you know that better than anyone." Snape snapped.

"Yes you do, your actions were almost heroic during the last part of the war, if you do not deserve love no one does." Snape gave no response this time and Dumbledore continued. "I wonder if you have even considered this yourself, but you should look for love in unlikely places, among the eldest of the students, perhaps. Is there anyone there who has caught your eye?"

"Of course not," Snape said, a note of denial in his voice.

"No?" Dumbledore sounded unconvinced and Donny agreed with him. "I think you're lying Severus, there is someone. Miss Wilkinson?"

"You insult me," Snape hissed, his voice only just audible to Donny "To say that I would look for love in my students, in that chit, who does not to be a pure-blood and a Slytherin. She is nothing; unintelligent, naïve, haughty and utterly disgusting. Never."

Dumbledore did not respond for some time, letting Snape slowly cool down. "I must be going Severus. It is a shame that you haven't found someone. I'd be more than happy to assist in the persuasion of the girl of your dreams, when you find her, that is."

Donny heard the door creak open and rushed to his feet. Dumbledore walked out of Snape's office, shutting the door behind him. He then turned to face Donny. "Ah, Mister Young, how are you?" he asked, a blissfully ignorant smile on his face.

"Very well, Sir," Donny replied, startled. "I-I was just..." he fumbled for a way to explain himself.

"Listening on the conversation between myself and Professor Snape?" Dumbledore seemed unconcerned, "Though perhaps not the wisest of choices, in some cases I always find eavesdropping extremely informative, don't you?"

"Oh," Donny followed Dumbledore as he made his way up the corridor in the direction of the Entrance Hall. "Yes, I suppose, Sir."

"Never mind that now, how is your young friend Miss Wilkinson doing? The events of the holiday past are not impeding her I hope?" Dumbledore seemed at ease and Donny had no option but to respond.

"She's been changed by her ordeal, certainly, she's much more... restrained than she used to be. It's hard to tell how well she had been coping but she's much more mature than before, but also quieter and more timid."

"Something few would consider to be a positive," Dumbledore noted.

"Yes, sir but it's more than that, Tessa Zabini tells me she wakes screaming every other night, silently crying for help. The past still torments her, it's not just her uncommonly quiet tongue, there're more hidden issues, more mental scars and they're things she would never admit to, even to me..." Donny fell silent, considering Alex as he did so. Dumbledore was also quiet for a minute, giving Donny time to pluck up the courage to ask about the conversation with Snape.

"Sir, I couldn't help but overhear..." he began, "you and Professor Snape talking about Zandra, I mean Alex, saying that, well, the two of them..." Dumbledore stopped and turned to face Donny.

"Let us overlook for the moment that you were eavesdropping and discuss your thoughts on my intruding in the lives of your best friend and her teacher. How would you view an intimate relationship between Miss Wilkinson and our esteemed professor?"

Donny shrugged. "Well, no offence, Professor but I'm not sold on the idea. Alex is scared of him, truly terrified, she conceals it well, but I'm not her best friend for nothing." Dumbledore gave a sympathetic smile. "I worry that she would be forced into it and be unable to tell anyone Snape was abusing her."

"A valid concern."

Ennobled, Donny continued. "He's been more than attentive to her over the past few month, she had detention with him every Saturday until a week ago, her first week was a series of detentions from him, all stemming from one incident one the first night...I assume you are familiar with it."

"I may well be," Dumbledore appeared to be somewhat amused.

"Well similar issues have been dealt with differently in the case of all Slytherin students but her."

"Hmm..." Dumbledore considered his position before speaking again, "And if it were voluntary? That is to say if she were willing to endure his rather antisocial behaviors for the sake of a long-term relationship. Would that be so bad?"

"Well, no, I suppose not sir." Donny was still being objectionable. At least had he an argument against Dumbledore's proposal he would have objected. As he couldn't think of any faults with the plan he resorted to a very teenage coping mechanism: a silent sulk.

"Dumbledore," a cold and livid voice came from the shadows. Donny jumped, startled as Dumbledore turned to face the speaker. Donny peered nervously round Dumbledore to see a thin man with a pallid complexion and blood red eyes. He shivered.

"James!" Dumbledore swept forward with open arms, embracing the man in an over-friendly gesture. "How are you my old friend?"

"I have been better. Which reminds me; one of your bloody teachers prevented me from having a bite. It was fair prey," he added quickly, knowing well that his friend did not tolerate attacks on students. "She was of age. Pretty little thing, too."

Dumbledore stepped back to give James room to breathe air that wasn't tinged with blood. Donny gulped once and walked out from behind the elderly wizard. "Which girl? Zandra?" He asked, thinking what a washout the surprise party would be if Alex turned out to have been attacked by a vampire.

James stared at Donny as if he had just seen him; which, in all fairness, was probably true. "How would I know?" he snapped. "Brown hair, green eyes, nice assets... If it sounds like your friend, I don't doubt that greasy-haired bast—Mr. _Snape_ is with her near the Lake."

Donny looked swiftly back at Dumbledore, "Sir, I'm not sure I could take him alone."

"I think the real Professor Snape would like to know someone is impersonating him, don't you agree?" Dumbledore asked, lightly, as he directed James up the hallway in the direction of his office.

"Oh. Right. Thank you, Professor." Donny raced off, taking stairs three at a time as he speed back to Snape's office. He clattered loudly down the slime-covered walls of the dungeons so it came as little surprise Snape emerged from his office to reprimand him for being noisy.

"S-sir," Donny choked, out of breath. "Alex is in trouble!" He got the reaction he expected, which was a look of disdainful disinterest and he fought to catch his breath and continue. "She went swimming I think and this man came—James, his name was I think—he's a vampire." Snape's lip curled. "He said you'd come and uh... interrupted his pursuit of her, that you were with her when you left."

"And you trust this vampire enough to take his word that I could get Miss Wilkinson from the Lake to the castle, then get back to my quarters and then have a lengthily visit from the Headmaster all before he could get back? I think not."

"Well, yes and no sir, we think, that is Professor Dumbledore and I, that someone is impersonating you," Donny gushed, not sure how Snape would jump.

"Clearly." Snape began walking swiftly toward the Entrance Hall, leaving Donny to keep pace behind him. He was fast; Donny, still out of breath, struggled to maintain his distance without losing him.

When they reached the Great Hall, Donny was forced to skid to a halt in order to avoid colliding with the suddenly stationary Snape. He was quietly discussing something with James, although the conversation did not seem to have progressed very far. Donny arrived just in time to hear James ask softly: "You're not a vampire, are you?"

Snape ignored the question and asked one of his own. "Where is the girl?" Donny blinked. '_Her name is Alex_,' he thought silently, '_not that you seem to care.'_

"Last time I saw her was down by the Lake, if I recall," the vampire replied smoothly. "Are you certain you're not a vampire? Perhaps a werewolf? You're definitely not human..." Snape brushed past him, giving Donny an opportunity to perfect to pass up.

"We think it's the 'vampire' thing but no-one's ever got enough evidence to be sure..." He trailed off seeing Snape disappear through the front doors. "Excuse me." He dashed after Snape once more.

Cold.

The cold surprised her slightly; how long had she been out here? How long had she been curled up in this tree hollow? Long enough that her back was starting to ache, that was for sure. The blood was already drying on her thighs and he had been kind enough to shove her wand through her hair. She'd been too dazed to hex him and by the time she'd regained her senses, he was gone.

'_Of course he would be,'_ she thought tiredly, curling herself into a tighter ball.

"ALEX!" Donny, that was Donny's voice. Her mind struggled to come up with an appropriate reaction, one that would hopefully help him find her. She moaned softly into her hand. It didn't help. She combed her hand through her hair to locate her wand.

"Donny." Even to her that sounded faint, pathetic. "Donny, please!" That was better, but only slightly. "DONNY!" the thin shriek pierced her eardrums and she relinquished her wand, feeling it roll away from her body, out of reach.

She closed her eyes, defeated and heard the soft crunch of snow underfoot. She opened her eyes, first in anxious confusion then wider in fear. The face of her tormentor hovered before her eyes. She was staring blankly up at Severus Snape. Alex squeezed her eyes shut once more, but found no escape. The face so cruel, so menacing was worse in her mind's eye.

"Severus..." Had it been a dream? She had been sure it was Snape before...but the hair; it had changed... but whom... "Severus..." They were close, his face inches away from hers and she needed to know or she thought she did. She brushed her lips against his. A kiss... but this time was different, he was surprised, reluctant, unsure. This kiss ended almost as it began. But it didn't matter by then she knew, two Snapes... this one was the right one... Lavender...

Snape eyed the defiled body with controlled emotions. Gently he let his hand linger for moments on her bruised skin, her neck... his fingers plucked a single, long blonde hair from her neck and he twirled it, frowning. He withdrew a vial from deep within his robes and placed the hair within it, then he turned her over, searching for more of the same yellow hair, so far from her own reddish-brown. Two more: the first on her chest, the second just above her navel—each was filed away with care. Then, in a moment of sudden recklessness he pressed his lips to hers, somehow wiping her clean of that which had defiled her.

"Zandra!" Donny, breathless, pulled up alongside Snape a second after their lips parted. "Is she okay?" he asked, in a moment of fret-founded stupidity. Snape waved his wand and a blanket wound its way around her exposed body.

"She is suffering from hypothermia, not to mention severe trauma caused by sexual harassment you inform me was performed by someone who bore my face. Tell me, Young, do you ever stop to think about anything aside from yourself?" Donny backed off a step or two as Alex groaned into her blanket. She was awake, her mind filled with images of her ordeal and with no memory of the cloggy confused thoughts that had lead her to kiss her professor just a minute ago.

"Oh, sorry, Sir." Donny blinked, leaning forward to whisper: "Sorry, Zandra." Alex had hoped Donny would take on some kind of protective role. Instead he watched on bale-eyed as Snape levitated her into his arms. "We're taking her to the hospital wing?" he asked as Snape began to make his way up to the castle. Snape's mouth twitched and he nodded. "Oh, I should probably tell the others... we were planning this surprise party you see and..." He trailed off as Snape paused to fix him with a censorious glare.

"Very well, Mr. Young. You may leave." Donny nodded and ran off, he paused and turned to double back.

"I'll tell them she's gone home for the holidays shall I?" He gave a kind of nervous laugh. "It's just that it would be unkind to tell them about the rape wouldn't it?"

Snape sneered, "Mister Young, I appreciate your concern for your friend however since it appears to me your intelligence has been rather restricted these past few minutes, that would be most wise." Donny swallowed and ran off, leaving Alex alone with Snape. Again.

She felt the last fringes of her hope vanish. The only thing protecting her had disappeared into the bowls of the castle and she was beginning to panic. She began to hyperventilate; her breathing became shallower, harsher. Alex was shuddering and gasping as her body began to seize up, her skin tightening against the rough cloth of the blanket only to fall away once more stretching out the other way.

Snape's pace quickened and she began to lash out at him, her limbs straining against the tight fabric that had been wound around her body and was even now tightening to restrict her movement even more than before. She felt her heart leap and twist inside her chest and she began to slowly sob tears that rolled gradually down her check and fell onto the ground beneath her.

They couldn't have reached the Hospital Wing quick enough.

"Put her down over there! Albus already told me, but I didn't think it would be this bad... Hold her down, if you please." Alex felt herself be lowered onto a bed, feeling just a little safer now Snape was not in direct contact with her. He remained nearby, however, looming as Madame Pomfrey administered a round of tonics and tinctures, which calmed her somewhat. It was not enough to remove the clamp that seemed to be permanently clasped around her chest.

A second round of potions came her way as soon as the last of the previous had been finished she felt her body relax massively and she hissed a sigh of relief as her mind unraveled.


End file.
